


Lucifer's Pact, Lucifer's Heart

by LazuliAlekto



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: A little of Lucifer's inner monologue, All the other brothers are mentioned - Freeform, Emotional Sex, F/M, Introspection, Love Confessions, Lucifer's POV, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, episode 20 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazuliAlekto/pseuds/LazuliAlekto
Summary: Lucifer ruminating on the Human Exchange Student and how she has affected his brothers.  And himself."  Before he knew it, the year was almost gone and Phaedra had a pact with all his brothers.  All, except him.  Even Diavolo was eyeing him speculatively.  Lucifer could practically hear his thoughts.  What was holding him back?  Was it his pride?  Or something else?  He began to panic.  He could not let her leave without resolving things between them somehow.  He wished to be hers.  He wished for the connection, regardless of all else he desired. "
Relationships: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 167





	Lucifer's Pact, Lucifer's Heart

Demons do not prevaricate. They do not dance around a subject that they feel passionate about. They throw themselves at something wholeheartedly, their whole _being_ invested in it. When they want, they _need._ It becomes as essential as breathing. Fear of being hurt is not something a demon experiences regularly, so it is a foreign concept to hold back.

The higher class of demons were even more likely to act on their basest desires. And Demons born of Angels were a class unto themselves.

For the Morning Star, once the most beloved of all the Archangels, to _feel_ , to want something, or rather some _one,_ and not be able to discern any reciprocated emotion was an anathema to his sensibilities. His brothers, though they teased and pretended to be annoyed with him, were loyal beyond what humans could possibly comprehend. They loved him, and he loved them in return. He felt responsible for them, worried for them, needed them as they needed him, protected them fiercely. They were a unified group as much as it might appear otherwise. A punishment never meant ostracism. Even in the case of Belphegor. His imprisonment in the attic had been Lucifer’s attempt at keeping his brother from harm. Keep him close. Keep him from a charge of treason. Keep him from execution. Because he loved him. He could not bear to lose another sibling. Lilith’s loss had almost broken him, only the knowledge that she was safe in the human realm had soothed the ache of her absence, though he lamented the fact that she had only had a human span of life. Her death, or rebirth as a human, had been the catalyst for his protective behaviour.

Seeing brother after brother become enamoured of their human exchange student was…an unknown quantity amongst their group.

Mammon, being his favourite and the one with him the longest, had been the only demon of his brothers he had considered when deciding who would be her carer. He trusted Mammon implicitly despite his protests. Mammon was the fallen warrior, almost as brutal as Lucifer himself, though that capacity was hidden under all his bluster and foolishness. When Mammon wanted something, he went after it with a single-mindedness that was unsurpassed. His desire for validation had translated into a greed for material wealth that had become his hallmark trait. Without that he floundered, adrift. He was whip smart, tactical in his acquisitive tendencies. Apply his brain to how to acquire something and he was laser focused. However, if something bored him nothing could convince him to engage. Not even the threat of punishment.

For all that Mammon could be exceedingly wary underneath his bluster and somewhat belligerent, to see him blush and stutter was…confronting.

Pleasures of the flesh were nothing new to any of them, even Leviathan. So to see Mammon confused by a simple touch from the human woman had Lucifer befuddled. A word from her and Mammon would turn into a blabbering mess. He wanted her, yet he was holding back from acquiring her. Lucifer didn’t understand it until he realised that Mammon _adored_ her. When Mammon liked someone, windfalls would appear. With Phaedra, it was excessive in the extreme. Asmodeus was the most overtly affectionate of them all, but Mammon’s affection for the human woman was deeper than Lucifer could remember ever experiencing.

The pact only cemented that.

Leviathan’s shut in tendency as the resident otaku in the House of Lamentation was well known. His affinity with water had made him the Commander of Hell’s Navy, tactical acumen channeled into his games when he was not needed in that capacity. He kept himself occupied with frivolous activities to quell the need to be the best at everything. His need to acquire was almost on par with Mammon, yet for different reasons. While Mammon wanted to have things, Levi needed to have the best, the biggest, the rarest of items. If someone else had something he didn’t, Levi was hell bent on getting it.

His collections had often threatened to overflow throughout their home, so every century or so, Lucifer would entreat him to chose the best and keep those only in his rooms, the others to be housed in a warehouse. One warehouse had grown into many that Levi’s serpentine nature guarded like the relative of a dragon that he was. His hoard was the best.

Lucifer hadn’t been particularly concerned by Levi’s derision of Phaedra as a _normie_. It meant he wouldn’t be envious of her attention. Until Leviathan had deemed her to be the _best_ of all normies and therefore worthy of his attention. That had translated into her being needed as his partner in games, his talking partner in discussions about his passions. The one he wanted to drag to conventions, the one who indulged him.

That had caused furious arguments between Levi and Mammon, until Phaedra stepped in to quiet them both. Her ability to do such a thing had taken Lucifer aback. They _listened_ to her. Mammon, she declared to be her _first_ , her protector. Levi was her otaku demon, the one with which she could indulge in certain human pursuits.

Levi now, too, was flustered in her company. A more common occurrence for the Avatar of Envy, yet the quality was different. He was proud to be claimed by her, not the other way around.

Another pact was formed.

Satan was far more circumspect. It had taken a great deal longer for the Avatar of Wrath to warm to the human woman. But then, it took Satan a great deal of time to warm to anyone completely. He was polite, unfailingly polite, yet restrained. He watched her with a discerning eye, careful to keep the trait that was his hallmark well hidden as was his way. Of all the brothers, Satan was the best at sequestering his nature. That ability had been hard earned. As the physical embodiment of Lucifer’s anger, not created the same way the others had been, he had been aloof, trying to understand his own place.

To loose his wrath was to watch the worlds burn.

Quick witted, with an extraordinary thirst for knowledge, Satan read avariciously, soaking up what ever each tome could teach him, applying that to his own experience. Fact or fiction, Satan always found a lesson in the words he read. The Greek Philosophers had been an early love, seeking for understanding. Now his favourites were detective novels, though not the only thing he read. He was rarely seen without a book in hand, turning the pages quietly at the dining table, curled up in the library, music room or observatory.

The very idea of Satan forming a pact with Phaedra had at first seemed ludicrous. 

Until…

Until Lucifer found the pair curled up together in the library, books surrounding them, laughing in delight as they read lines out to each other, discussing fervently what they meant. Listening he discovered an intelligence hitherto unseen. Lucifer knew she was smart, her course work and assignments for RAD made that abundantly clear. However, it was surprising to find that she was able to keep up with Satan’s acerbic remarks, firing back with her own that made Satan laugh uproariously. Intelligence and wit were things Satan valued.

Lucifer added shrewd to Phaedra’s qualities when she declined Satan’s invitation to form a pact. Her reason being that he was only doing it to spite Lucifer, very true at the time, later not so much. She only accepted pacts with them for the right reasons.

So, instead of accepting, she had assisted he and Satan reaching an accord for the first time ever. Lucifer taught Satan how to control Cerberus, encouraging him when the Avatar of Wrath had doubted himself. Phaedra had beamed with glee as Satan still tormented Lucifer, but there was no bite to it anymore. And Lucifer found himself appreciating Satan’s quick wit.

She had brought them harmony and Lucifer found himself reassessing his initial thoughts on her motives.

Satan had been her fifth pact.

Before that, however, were Beel and Asmo.

Lucifer had honestly thought Asmodeus would be the first to make a pact with Phaedra. Asmo was open to everyone and anyone being who he was, his lustful nature translating into an intense need for attention and affection from everyone he met. Vain and frivolous, Asmo expected everyone to fall at his feet. Lucifer loved him, as he did all his brothers, but he thought that Asmo could be incredibly silly and a touch thoughtless of others feelings. He would pursue with a singular intent, then most often discard his partner after achieving satisfaction, seeking out his next target.

He teased and cajoled until he got the attention he desired, mesmerising those who seemed hesitant which Lucifer frowned upon. But Asmo was unrepentant, consorting with anyone who gave him what he craved, despite Lucifer’s warnings to abstain. Abstaining was something Asmo simply could not do. Would not do. Regardless of the consequences.

That Phaedra was immune to his charms was impossibly frustrating to Asmo. And confounded Lucifer. How? How could she resist him? At first Mammon had bristled every time Asmo went near the human woman, but as time wore on and it became clear that she wasn’t going to submit simply because Asmo deemed that she should, Mammon calmed. A little. And again, she reassured him of his place, as she did with all the others. Each demon held a unique place in her affections.

So, instead, Asmo had changed tactics. He appealed to her need of pampering. And his own in turn. Discussions of facials and shopping became the norm at the dining table of a morning and evening, Asmo enthusiastic that Phaedra wanted to join him in those endeavors. His conversation was still peppered with innuendo, salacious commentary and very obvious hints, yet now it was good natured flirting. Flirting that Phaedra laughed off with equal humor. And for once, Asmo wasn’t offended.

Indeed, he appeared to enjoy the need to put more effort in.

Again it was Mammon that resisted the idea of a pact. Though _resisted_ was a very weak term for his reaction. A demonic pillow fight was hardly a gentle affair. Bursting into the room that Phaedra was sharing with Asmo and Solomon, with Diavolo in tow to find everyone else engaged in a violent pillow fight was…disconcerting. Satan was incensed, his wrath coming to the surface, Asmo was trying to defend his pact by insulting Mammon - not particularly effective. Mammon was ready to destroy the whole room, indignant and exceedingly loud. Instead of throwing pillows, Beel was eating them, Luke bouncing around like the annoyingly yappy thing that he was, Simeon grinning at the antics of the brothers, Solomon darting in every so often to enhance Asmo’s pillows with magic to make them more deadly. Phaedra was attempting to stay out of harms way, hand covering her mouth to hide her giggles.

And so, the pact with Asmo had been made.

Bringing with it revelations of a power within her that was alarming in its implications. Phaedra could wield magic more adeptly than Solomon, a consummate sorcerer.

Beel was ambivalent towards humans. He didn’t love them, nor did he abhor them. He deemed them useful for the food they created more than anything. He was a gentle giant among the brothers, content when he was eating and giving in to his gluttony, but fierce when he was denied. Working out kept him balanced and ate away at the massive amounts of energy his feeding created.

Beelzebub had been morose after Lilith’s death and even more so with Belphie’s departure, yet he had slowly gravitated to Phaedra. Housing them together when her room had been destroyed brought them closer, Beel turning to her often after he discovered her ability to cook. Then he began requesting her to join him during his workouts. She would film him to assist his form, or join in.

He was quiet in his puppy like affection, Phaedra filling a void that had consumed him without Belphie and Lilith. He was a guard dog in protecting her, and she protected him in turn.

To find Phaedra with Mammon, Levi and Beel all together became common, the four creating mischief. Although Lucifer despaired of the chaos than ensued, he was pleased to see Beel interacting more. Even if it was generally as a result of bribery in the form of food.

Neither Mammon nor Levi had been particularly perturbed when Beel made a pact with her, simply adding him to their number when they went out, Mammon enthusiastic and bombastic as usual, Levi grumbling at being dragged along when he could be gaming, but still going, and Beel, coming out of his shell and causing his own brand of mischief. Midnight fridge raids now included Phaedra, Lucifer coming into the kitchen to find the pair giggling as she made the glutton sandwiches to his specifications.

Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to scold them. It was worth the extra grocery expenses to see Beel smile shyly at her.

Discovering that almost every single pact had been made through the interference of a different brother was odd. They had all angled for one or another to make a pact with Phaedra. As if they were ensuring that all of them were tied to her.

Except Belphegor.

Belphie had offered his pact as a desire to give her himself. A penance and a gift. A sweet gesture from the Avatar of Sloth. Belphegor’s love of all things human had been something he held in common with Lilith, the pair drawn to the delights of the human realm despite the edict that were not to consort with them. And, as is the case with love that turns to hatred, his ensuing hatred when Lilith was taken was fierce in the extreme. He then loathed anything human.

Lucifer had known that Belphegor would be the one to voice objections to the Exchange Program, yet, even he was unprepared for how vehement the Avatar of Sloth had been. The vicious streak that usually was employed in snarky barbs was now directed at Lucifer himself as Diavolo’s messenger. And at humanity in general.

So, Lucifer had locked him away. To protect him, though Belphie certainly didn’t see it that way.

Learning of his duplicitous behaviour towards Phaedra and the way he had cajoled her into assisting him in his escape, Lucifer had been shocked. And angered. All of them cared for her, and to watch as Belphegor destroyed her…

Had she not reappeared, unharmed due to Barbatos’ interference, Lucifer would have expected Mammon to rip his brother to shreds. Watching the Avatar of Greed wail and plead for her to live while he held her, on the verge of breaking had shown Lucifer just how much she meant to him, to them all.

And that had been overshadowed by further revelations.

Watching Belphie cling to Phaedra after that had raised many suspicions of his motives, after all, not long before he had been clamoring for her death, indeed, he _had_ killed her. Lucifer surveyed the situation with an eagle eye, yet Phaedra had a capacity for forgiveness that surpassed anything Lucifer was familiar with. She allowed the attention, and indeed, assisted Belphie in mending his relationships with all of them.

In the end, the gift of himself was one that Lucifer understood.

That left only himself as the lone brother who had not formed a pact with her.

Lucifer mused over his own behaviour towards Phaedra. And winced. His damnable pride had clouded his judgement several times to the detriment of their interpersonal relations. He had intimidated and frightened her, though, through it all she had stood up to him. For his brothers. In each and every instance of her defiance, it had been a result of her wishing to protect his brothers from him in some capacity. Or bring them together.

He now knew Belphegor had instigated her making pacts, or put the idea in her head, but she had continued on her own connivance. For her own reasons. She had told him at the Ball that she wished to be friends with them and he had scoffed at that notion, not believing it. At least, not then.

However, despite his initial misgivings, he had still been drawn irrevocably. He could not see her without wanting to touch her in some way, hear her without wanting to listen forever. He was insanely obsessed with how her lips would feel, how they would taste on his. He had been haunted for weeks after hearing her delighted moan when Mammon had found her favourite ice cream. The sound had echoed in his dreams, making him wake with a gasp, having to relieve his need immediately, her name the one he moaned as he reached completion.

It took him two weeks before he could meet her eyes without a flush heating his cheeks.

And then there was the flirting.

He could not help but tease Phaedra when it became apparent she wished for more, though he couldn’t voice his own thoughts on the subject except through subtle hints. The gift of a rose, a call to hear her voice, invitations to breakfast or other outings where none of his brothers would be in attendance. The occasional more blatant comment in their messages.

Admitting her feelings were convenient…just before all hell broke loose in the form of Belphegor striking her down.

Latent abilities aside, she possessed a magic he could not deny.

Ahh, the feel of her fingers running through his hair. That was blissful and erotic at the same time. There was certainly no-one else he would allow the privilege of ruffling his locks. He loved the way she would tousle them, then drag her fingers to the silvered ends, twirling them, the look on her face enamoured. Entranced. Just like he was with her.

They circled around each other, or rather, Lucifer circled around her. The Morning Star in orbit around a sun.

Before he knew it, the year was almost gone and Phaedra had a pact with all his brothers. All, except him. Even Diavolo was eyeing him speculatively. Lucifer could practically hear his thoughts. What was holding him back? Was it his pride? Or something else? He began to panic. He could not let her leave without resolving things between them somehow. He wished to be hers. He wished for the connection, regardless of all else he desired.

When she came to see him, the sound of his brothers carousing above, Lucifer had made his mind up. He would offer himself. Be humble, lay his desire out bare for her to see and hope she would accept. He began by asking her if she had any loose ends to tie up, hopeful she might initiate a more…intimate conversation. Her eyes were guileless as she stared up at him, a slight quiver to her frame.

“I still haven’t made a pact with you.”

The words he wanted to hear, or, at the very least, some of them.

He opened his mouth, wanting to tell her all he’d been thinking of.

Alas, what came out of his mouth was none of that.

“A pact, you say? I see.” He crossed his arms, wincing internally. _No, no, don’t do it like this._ “You’ve made pacts with all my brothers, which just leaves me…” He stepped closer, inhaling the scent of her perfume, “do you really want to make a pact with me? Truly?”

Then he... Well, he reverted to his prideful self.

“I am more than a name to be crossed off your list.” Then, “I can’t have you lumping me together with everyone else. That won’t do.” He felt himself transform and wanted to throw himself at her feet, but the flow of words wouldn’t stop, his nerves getting the better of him.

He was arrogant, bordering on rude. Condescending, dominating. Falling back on being aloof to guard his heart. He immediately regretted every word that fell from his lips, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. And yet, she appeared to understand what he had wanted to say regardless of the idiocy that he spoke. She stood her ground…again. She looked him directly in the eye and agreed to his conditions, and then delighted him further when it became apparent she was more than willing to stay.

“There is still something I have to do,” she whispered, blinking up at him, eyes wide and honest.

“There is?” Hoping, hoping so desperately it was what he had been wanting even more than the pact he could feel thrumming through him.

She lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips to his, warm, plump, sweet, a little tremble discernible through her touch.

“Phaedra.” He continued to act arrogant, but she didn’t care, a soft smile on her face, seeing through his facade. “I’m not letting anyone else have you now. _You’re mine.” And I am yours, no matter what I say. Please, see that, see me for who I am on the inside._

Holding her, kissing her for the first time, Lucifer felt a peace he hadn’t felt for eons regardless of the lust thrumming through his veins. Finally knowing how she felt, that she reciprocated his own feelings had settled something within him. Desire welled up inside him, consuming him as she pressed against him, her mouth eager on his, her tongue dancing with his own. A wanton groan left her as he pulled her flush to his body, letting her feel his need, her own obvious in her trembling, her hands sifting through his hair to grip and pull him closer. Each kiss a fervent admission from them both, a confession of what neither had yet been able to truly express.

And he felt…safe with her. Thousands of years old and he finally felt safe enough to express his true self with someone. She wasn’t going to use him, she wasn’t going to trick him into anything he didn’t want. She wanted him for himself, as he was. Phaedra had let him dictate whether they would join by pact or not, she hadn’t pushed for this with him, nor had she berated him for the way he switched back and forth, sometimes warm and amorous, others cold and indifferent - well, not indifferent, merely the appearance of it for forms sake.

Deepening the kiss, he let her feel his gratitude for her acceptance of him as he was, and how he appeared to be. Both sides of Lucifer. Every facet of him. Desire dripped down his spine, then pooled low in his belly, dizzying and hot.

It was Lucifer that moaned this time, letting it spill into her mouth, hands mapping the curves of her delicious form. One hand slid from her back where it was moving inexorably towards her ass, up to her chin to tilt her face so he could deeper explore her mouth with his tongue, the back and forth push and pull of their bodies conspiring to lead them to Lucifer’s bed. _Their_ bed, if Lucifer had any say in it.

For once Phaedra had been his in that bed, Lucifer would forever feel that it will be _theirs_. No longer lonely and alone.

Laying her down on the surface, climbing over her, Lucifer would now never have to berate himself for lascivious thoughts when she had been in his room before. Now he can act on those thoughts, bring them to life in each caress of flesh.

Ahh, the view she presents as she stared up at him through lowered lashes, all sign of the usual bashfulness gone from her expression, replaced with unadulterated desire and, dare he say it, _love._ He had the impression he was wearing something similar on his own visage if the intense darkening of her eyes had anything to say on the subject.

There is no rush to their movements, a distinct intent, but no rush. Lucifer intends to savor every delicious moment of their first night together, wants to make her body sing with pleasure, want to show her exactly how he feels.

So, as Phaedra undressed Lucifer, he in turn removed each and every piece of her clothing with infinite care, worshiping each discovered span of skin he was given as his reward. Her skin felt like the costliest silk beneath his fingertips, beneath his lips, sliding against his own as it in turn was bared to her touch, that touch reverent, awed, as she explored him.

They did not speak, no longer needing words, and perhaps, Lucifer muses as he pressed fervent kisses to her clavicles, perhaps, they never truly had needed words to express themselves. Their dance around one another had been a prelude to this, a courtship dance that led them to now.

Deep in his heart, from the moment he first saw her, Lucifer knew they would come to this inevitable conclusion, though he had not discerned how deep he would fall, how deep he would _feel._

And the joy of it all was that she had joined him on that journey, arriving in the exact same destination.

A quiet ferocity colours Lucifer’s kisses, a yearning set loose, and reciprocated just as fiercely, Phaedra calling him with her siren song, every moan, every keening sound he draws from her a symphony to his ears, and to his heart.

He kissed his way down to the divine beauty of her chest, drinking in her gasp as he closed his lips around one hardened nub, fondling her other breast with his palm. His exploring hand yields softness, angles, dips and valleys that he committed to his map of her, the curve of her waist as it meets her hips, the arch of her spine as she lifted to meet his questing mouth. The look in her eyes as he glanced up at her along the length of her torso kindled the banked fire within his core, igniting it, driving him to lift and prise her underwear off, down her hips, down the length of her thighs, calves, tossing them away to join the rest of their clothing, sitting back on his haunches to simply appreciate the already debauched display. 

Phaedra blinked up at him with a fluttering of dark lashes, parting her thighs in tacit approval as he curved his palm over the muscles, feeling them shift as he lifted her leg, bending down to worship her further.

“Ahh, Lucifer.” Her voice was hoarse, husky, laden with lust as he lapped at her, suckling at her first gently, then more insistently as she canted up to his mouth, her fingers migrating into his hair. He traced his tongue over her folds, then deeper between them, dipping inside her, tasting the essence of her. Every touch, light or more forceful, carried with it his utter devotion, spoke of what he felt as he had been unable to thus far. He let his hands, his whole body, his lips speak for him, sure she would understand. Her reactions spoke in turn, urging him on to deeper worship with every swipe of his tongue, every press of his fingers into her skin. The confirmation of how they both felt needn’t be made with words from their mouths, made in the soft gasps, the curve of her spine as she arched into his ministration, the flutter of lashes, the clench and release of her fingers in his hair.

Words, Lucifer thought, would never be enough to express the deep desire and love he felt for her. He’d felt mild infatuation, varying degrees of desire over the centuries, but this, this utterly overwhelming need to be with her, hold her, kiss her, protect her was foreign. But not unwelcome.

Never unwelcome.

He’d felt bliss before his fall, but he hadn’t really recognised it for what it was, not until the moment he crawled back over her and slid into her heat. Phaedra shuddered under him, her arms coming to loop around his neck, staring up at him with so much emotion etched into her features that he simply couldn’t look away.

“Phaedra, I…,” he began, then faltered. _I love you._ The words wouldn’t come, so he settled for showing her, hoping she would understand. 

She fluttered around him, trembling with each touch, gasping as he withdrew then returned, in and out of her slowly, letting them both adjust to the sensation of joining. _Divine_ was his thought as he started to make love to her. She clutched at him, nails leaving scratches down his back, arching up to meet each thrust into her, keening his name.

With a moan of her name, Lucifer captured her mouth, their tongues tangling, dancing, flicking together as he rocked into her, his hands migrating into her hair to angle the depth of the kiss. Her undulations urged him to increase his pace. Only a little, just enough to heighten the intensity, feeling her respond to it with a flutter, a clench down on his length, nails digging into his back directly over the place where his upper set of wings sprouted from his skin. Sensitive. Euphoric to have her touch him there. Erotic and hedonistic in how it made him drive into her harder, delighted by her cry of pleasure.

Lucifer pulled out, almost all the way, leaving her bereft, begging, before he sheathed himself again, forceful, hard, her litany of his name lost to the thundering of his heart, the sparking of lightning along his veins. He pulled his hips away from her again, angling them and pushing back in, gratified by her arching off the bed, nails scrabbling down his back, head tossed back so his mouth could find her rabbiting pulse at her throat with his lips. One hand flew from his back to clutch at the pillow beneath her head, lifting her hips to meet each of his deep thrusts, thighs clenching around his waist, ankles hooked one over the other, breasts heaving with every gasping breath she took.

He leaned back, holding her thighs, feeling her tremble, feeling the quiver, taking in her form as she arched up, spine curved, shoulders and head pressed into the bed, her hips raising to meet him, darkened eyes continually on his as if afraid to look away and have the moment dissipate like smoke.

The rising pitch of her cries warned him of her approaching orgasm, his own beginning to coil in his gut like a spring wound too tight, urging him to lay back over her again, be as close as possible, feel every inch of skin against his, lips on his, tongue curling with his as they shared breaths.

They found their first release like that, entwined, breathing together in harmony.

The second time, Lucifer sat up, legs splayed out, Phaedra gyrating and undulating in his lap, legs secured around his waist, staring into each others eyes, his hands tangled in the dark fall of her hair.

The third time, she pushed him down, riding him with an abandon he hadn’t expected of her.

The fourth and final time before they collapsed in a tangle of limbs, Lucifer entered from behind, Phaedra on all fours, back a sinuous curve as she begged him hoarsely. They fell asleep, sated and displaying the marks of their passion, scratches, bite marks, the bruises of fingers pressing hard into skin.

With her head tucked under his chin, Lucifer smiled as he drifted off, listening to her breathing slow as she succumbed to dreams.

Lucifer woke suddenly, unsure what stirred him from his slumber. He pressed his face into his pillow, inhaling Phaedra’s intoxicating scent, breathing it deep into his lungs as he reached out for her. Only to find she was no longer in the bed, the place she had been laying cool to his touch. He frowned, disconcerted at her absence and sat up, searching for her.

A soft sniffle had him snapping his gaze to the fireplace. Almost hidden behind one of the chairs placed by the hearth he found her form. She was on the floor, head cradled on her arms, leaning on the seat of the chair, her shoulders trembling with her silent sobbing.

Lucifer vaulted up off the bed, not bothering to grab his robe in his haste to reach her. He was wearing his silk pajama pants, Phaedra had claimed the shirt, still wearing it, though it was so large on her delicate frame, slipping off her shoulders. Something possessive and protective surged in him at the sight of her dressed in his clothing. He knelt beside her in the flickering of the dying fire, hand stroking her hair. She stilled for a moment, then spun on her knees, burying her face in his chest, her tears spilling down his skin.

What had happened to cause her such distress?

Had he hurt her? He had thought not, but her misery was palpable as she sniffled against him, fingers tight on his biceps. He gathered her fully into his arms and lap, arms tight around her, pressing kisses into her hair.

“Phaedra, love,” he murmured. “What is it? What has upset you so?”

She shook her head, hair brushing over his skin. “It’s…there’s nothing I can do about it.”

He scowled down at her bent head, that sounded…troubling. Did she not trust that he would do anything for her? Or perhaps, she did not want to ask. He shifted so that they were both more comfortable, back against the chair, eyes drifting to the windows, sensing dawn was soon to be on its way.

Lucifer was unaccustomed to comforting anyone, but he desired to do it for her, in any way he could.

“Please, tell me so that I can help you,” he whispered.

“I…I…” she stuttered, her sobs wracking her body as he held her. “I don’t want to go,” she cried in a rush.

Oh. Oh hell. Lucifer cursed himself for not making himself clearer on the subject. He had assumed she knew. Assumed she understood his words earlier.

He tilted her tear stained face up, brushing away each new one that fell. He met her reddened eyes, “your time as an exchange student has come to an end, but, Phaedra, love,” he said softly. “I meant it when I said that we would pick this up again when you return.”

Phaedra bit her lip, her expression plaintive, confused. “But how? How can I return? I don’t know how to do that and I really don’t want to leave you. Any of you, but especially you, not now.” She took a shuddering breath, “I feel at home here, it _is_ home. You are home to me.”

Lucifer’s heart swelled in his chest to hear it. He smiled at her gently, cupping her face, “you are mine, Phaedra. Did you think I would allow you to be gone from me forever now that I have claimed you thus? And just as you are mine, I am yours.” She opened her mouth to protest that, but he placed a finger to her lips. “I know I said otherwise, but have you not learned anything from all your other pacts? It goes both ways, love.”

Hope bloomed in her eyes, yet she was still confused, “but…”

“We are _bound_ , Phaedra, irrevocably. Whatever the reason, you can call on that, you can call on me, or any of us, and we would come to that call. And we can find you wherever you are.” Lucifer bent his head, kissing her tenderly, “remember the portal we utilised to get to London?” She nodded eagerly. “I said then that there are others. How do you think Solomon comes to see Asmo, or any of the other demons he has a pact with?”

Phaedra twisted in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, reminding him that she was very naked under his shirt. Her arms draped over his shoulders as she peered up at him, “I can still see you?”

“Of course you can, Phaedra,” he said softly. “You are descended from an angel, had you been shown how to use the portal, it is likely you could have used it. Humans with an affinity have been found wandering the demon realm from time to time after they stumbled upon one of the portals by accident. And then, there is also the long way, the Demon road, the circles of Hell, or one of the other names for it.” He caressed her cheeks, “I would not suggest using that, too dangerous by far, but the other ways are open to you. I will make sure of it.” He felt her relaxing with every word he spoke, the tense line of her spine curling so that she was pressed against him, her heartbeat slowing to a more sedate pace.

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” she murmured, lips to his neck, making him shiver at the echo of a kiss to his flesh. “I wanted tonight to be perfect, and I ruined it.”

“You most certainly did not, love,” Lucifer retorted forcing her to look at him again. He searched her gaze earnestly, “I should have been clearer before we became occupied.”

Phaedra sucked her lip between her teeth, cheeks turning a delightful pink, squirming in his lap, “I liked the way you _occupied_ me.”

Lucifer raised a brow, then glanced at the window, “we still have time to occupy ourselves.” When he turned back, Phaedra’s expression had shifted to one of unadulterated lust. A very fetching look if Lucifer did say so, and he would. Later.

Now, however, he was going to lose himself in her again while he still had the chance.

Later, he would ponder how to bring about a more permanent solution than random visits between realms. He would speak to Diavolo, use up every favor he was owed if he could find a way to be near her more often. He wanted her by his side, in his bed, in his arms.

Perhaps Phaedra could act as something of a human liaison for the new humans in the Exchange Program, a little like Solomon had been for her when she first arrived. She had the experience now, she was descended from an angel, she loved a demon…

She loved him. He had felt that, felt the way she responded to him, the way she looked at him.

There was one more thing he truly needed to say, make himself as clear as he could, let her hold not one iota of doubt.

He took a deep breath, holding her face in his hands, searching her gaze, “Phaedra, I love you.”

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, her expression was filled with a joy that lit up her face. She smiled, a smile so exuberant that Lucifer was once again swept away by the beauty of her.

But her words were what he needed.

“I love you, too, Lucifer.”


End file.
